


Peter gets the chickenpox

by snarkymuch



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Fever, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Precious Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe), Sick Peter Parker, Sickfic, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, chickenpox
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:20:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23146075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarkymuch/pseuds/snarkymuch
Summary: Peter and Morgan both catch the chickenpox. Morgan's case is mild, but Peter's is severe. Tony takes care of them both.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe), Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 21
Kudos: 286





	Peter gets the chickenpox

**Author's Note:**

> This a prompt fill for my best friend Jade, who wanted to see the kids get chickenpox. I'm open to prompts, so drop them in comments or find me on [tumblr](https://snarky-drabbles.tumblr.com/)

The spider bite came with some great perks, but it also came with some serious downsides that no one predicted. For example, his overactive immune system that instead of calmly taking care of viruses, amped up like the Hulk after someone stole Bruce’s last pint of ice cream.

Which was how it came to be that he was in his Hello Kitty pajama pants and long sleeve shirt trying not to scratch at the blisters littering his skin with Morgan beside him. They had chickenpox. Despite having been vaccinated herself, she’d managed to pick it somewhere and spread it to Peter.

She wasn’t as nearly affected as him. Her case was mild, only a few spots dotted her neck and arms that didn’t bother her much. The pink splotches of calamine lotion covered each one, unlike Peter, who was practically painted in it. Much to his dismay, it did little for the itching. He was starting to think it was making things worse.

Overall, she was handling it like a champ. Peter, on the other hand, was not. He itched and wanted nothing more than to sandpaper his arms for some relief, and thanks to his haywire immune system, the virus was causing blisters in his throat and ears, too. To put it simply, he was miserable. The parts of him that didn’t itch, hurt or ache, and he felt generally lethargic and tired. A low-grade fever lingered just enough to make him chilled one minute and hot the next.

Whenever his fingers even twitched toward his skin to itch, Morgan would snap her gaze to him, giving him a disapproving stare. It was the perfect mix of Tony and Pepper.

Tony was making lunch, something Peter wasn’t looking forward to, and Morgan was observing him from the corner of her eye as she played tea party with her stuffed alpaca and raccoon. The raccoon was something that Rocket had gotten for Tony after the Thanos thing. Something about a build-a-bear. Peter didn’t ask.

A spot on his neck burned and tingled, and it was driving him crazy. He needed to scratch it. Checking that Morgan was distracted, he quickly reached up and itched the spot. It was both painful and soothing.

“Daddy!” Morgan’s voice cut through the air, and Peter blinked at her, caught red-handed. He lowered his hand from his neck, but it was too late. “Daddy! Peter’s itchin’ again.”

“Hey, Mo, not cool. I was barely touching it, see?” He turned his head to show her that it was fine.

She shook her head, forehead wrinkled as she scowled. “Mommy says that itchin’ ‘em will cause an ‘fection.”

Peter sighed as he heard Tony’s footsteps approaching. “Thanks, Mo.”

She shrugged and went back to her tea party.

Tony appeared beside the couch, a dishtowel draped over his shoulder. He put his hands on his hips, gaze raking over Peter. “Pete, you know you can’t itch. Do you need more calamine lotion?”

Peter laid his head back against the couch, trying to ignore all the tingling and prickling spots on his body that he wanted nothing more than to claw at. He let a breath out his nose and then rolled his head to the side to look at Tony. The action made his throat ache. “If you put any more on me, I’ll look like a bottle of Pepto. Isn’t there something you can do?”

Tony’s expression softened. “I wish there was, kiddo. It seems your weird immune system isn’t doing what we thought. It’s struggling with this one, so you’re just gonna have to suffer like the rest of us lowly humans.”

“It’s not fair. I was vaccinated.”

“And like Bruce said, maybe something about the bite reset your system. Either way, you’re sick, and you need to rest—no itching. I know it’s not fair.”

A small hand touched Peter’s knee and glanced down to see Morgan holding out a teacup. “I made you my special tea. It’ll make you feel better.”

Peter couldn’t help but smile as he took the cup from her. “Thanks, Mo Mo.” He took a pretend sip. “It’s good. Feel better already.” His voice was rough, though, from the blisters in his throat.

“Okay, well, lunch is ready, grilled cheese for Morguna and soup for Petey Pie,” Tony said, pausing to step closer to Peter, placing a hand on his forehead. He frowned. “And some more super-powered fever reducer for the spider-baby.”

Peter didn’t even argue, which said a lot about how crappy he was feeling. Following Morgan, he shuffled his way toward the kitchen, plopping down in a chair at the table. Morgan climbed into one across from him, kneeling in the seat. She was still too small to sit without a booster, but she refused to use one because Peter didn’t, and despite Tony offering to make him his very own booster seat, Peter declined, throwing his support behind Morgan.

Tony set a plate of grilled cheese in front of Morgan, cut diagonally, no crust, and a bowl of what looked like canned chicken noodle in front of him. Steam tickled Peter’s nose and made his stomach rumble. He hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and that was only applesauce and some scrambled eggs, foods soft enough not to scratch his sore throat.

His back began to itch again, not that it had really stopped, and he rubbed his back against the chair, much like a bear would a tree. His eyes slipped closed at the sensation, and he breathed out his mouth. A hand gripped his shoulder, though, making him stop. It was Tony, looking at him with one eyebrow raised.

“As good as it feels, it’s not gonna feel better if you tear them open, especially if you get an infection.”

Peter’s shoulders sagged, but he nodded, picking up his spoon and taking a sip of broth. Morgan was peeling her sandwich apart, picking the cheese out, and then eating the bread. Peter huffed a laugh, regretting it when it stung his throat. He went back to his soup, eating carefully. The warm broth soothed his stomach, but he was starting to feel worse. He hated to say it, but he needed a nap. Being up all morning had drained him.

Tony took a seat next to Peter, sliding two white pills across the table to Peter. “Few more bites of soup, and then I want you to take those. They’ll hopefully help you feel better, maybe you’ll be able to get some rest.”

“Doubt it, can’t sleep when it feels like ants are crawling all over me and biting my skin.”

Tony sighed. “If I could trade places you—with either of you—I would in a heartbeat.”

Peter nodded, swallowing some noodles with a wince. He took the pills and washed them down with the glass of juice Tony had brought him. He really hoped they started working soon. He knew they wouldn’t do anything for the itching, but maybe they would take the edge off the general achiness he was feeling. 

There weren’t many options for him, most things didn’t work for him since the bite, but Bruce had developed a few things for him, like the super-powered ibuprofen and the anesthetic he’d needed a few months back after being shot.

Soup mostly gone, Peter pushed the bowl away and leaned his elbows on the table, resting his aching head in his hands. Morgan was humming something beside him as she finished her lunch. He loved her, but the sound was making his head hurt even more. His senses seemed so much sharper since he got sick.

“Hey,” Tony said, carding his fingers through Peter’s hair, making Peter groan. “Why don’t we get you to the couch, or up to bed?”

Peter hummed in agreement and lifted his head, blinking tiredly at Tony. “This really sucks.”

“I know. Let’s get you tucked in. Maybe you’ll feel better when you wake up.”

“Doubt it.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Not with that attitude.”

* * *

With Peter tucked into bed in his room, Tony pulled the door shut, leaving it just cracked, so he could hear him. He hated when either of his kids were sick but was thankful that at least Morgan was fairing pretty well. She hadn’t had her booster shot yet, so maybe that was how she contracted the illness, though her case was very mild. It didn’t seem like she’d be down long at all.

Peter, though. Peter was a mess. Blisters covered him from head to toe and even inside his mouth and throat. Tony hadn’t seen him look this miserable before, and that was saying something, especially since he’d been there when Peter puked on his shoes after getting carsick on the way to the robotics conference in New Hampshire.

When Tony got back downstairs, Morgan was stretched out on the couch under her Iron Man blanket, watching Paw Patrol. With one last glance at the TV, he went to the kitchen to make a coffee and refuel. It was draining, taking care of two sick kids. He didn’t know how Pepper managed to take care of him for so many years.

Sipping his coffee, he pulled up his emails and started reading. There were a few things from Pepper that needed his attention, but nothing that couldn’t wait a day. As he finished his coffee, a muffled whine caught his attention, and he straightened, tilting his head to the side. He crossed back to the living room to check on Morgan, but she was sleeping, the TV still playing in the background.

A loud thump from upstairs had Tony bolting for the staircase, taking the steps two at a time despite how his knees protested. He went straight to Peter’s room, pushing the door open to see the kid sprawled out on the floor beside the bed in a tangle of blankets.

He went straight to his side, and as he got closer, he could hear Peter murmuring, but he couldn’t make out the words. Tony brushed a hand over his forehead, seeing the splotches of red that were highlighting his cheeks. He jerked in surprise when he felt how hot his skin was. His fever had gotten much worse. Cursing, Tony started trying to rouse him, but Peter just kept mumbling, fighting him as he tried to untangle him from the blankets.

“Easy, Pete, I’m just trying to help.”

“Ben?” Peter’s voice sounded small and broken, making Tony’s heart clench.

“No, kiddo, it’s Tony. We’re gonna get you back into bed, okay? Then I’m taking your temperature and calling Doctor Smashy.”

A tear rolled down Peter’s cheek as he nodded, seeming to understand. Tony wrapped an arm under Peter and helped him back onto the bed, pushing him to lay back. Peter complied, glassy eyes looking unfocused as he blinked. With him back in the bed, Tony darted to the bathroom and dug through the cabinet until he found the thermometer. He rushed back to Peter, seeing the kid as he left him, and held the thermometer to his ear for a second before it beeped.

Tony held it up, reading the digital display—102.4. His fever had gone up nearly three degrees from when he took it last, which was hours ago. He should have checked it sooner. The kid had felt warmer in the living room with Morgan. He shouldn’t have waited to give him his medicine.

A whimper drew Tony’s attention, and he looked down to see Peter’s face twisted in what looked like pain. Instinctively, he reached out and ran his thumb over his brow, smoothing the wrinkles.

“You’re safe. You’re okay. Everything’s gonna be alright, kiddo. I’ve got you. I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

Peter’s mouth twitched, and then he relaxed again. Tony took that as his chance to check in with Bruce. He went out into the hall to make the call. After a short discussion, Bruce reassured him that Peter wasn’t in danger and that he might need another dose of the fever reducer sooner rather than later. They still hadn’t worked out all the kinks yet, and treating Peter was always a bit of a guessing game as to what would work. Peter’s healing factor could be a bit of a wild card at times, and so was how he metabolized meds.

When Tony slipped back into the room, he found Peter sleeping, so he tucked him in and went back downstairs to check on Morgan.

* * *

When Peter awoke, his eyes were sticky, and he had to rub them open. Looking around, he could see it was dark outside. He still felt crappy, but nowhere near as bad as before. His skin didn’t feel like fire ants were gnawing on him anymore, so there was that. He pushed himself up in bed, leaning back against the headboard, pillow lumped under his back. He yawned for the first time in two days without wincing in pain. The door opened, letting light in from the hall, and Tony stepped into the room, wearing a pair of sweats and his Metallica shirt. He looked exhausted, though he brightened at seeing Peter up.

“How’re you feeling?” Tony asked, crossing the room and turning on the light.

“Better, I guess.”

Tony pressed his palm to Peter’s forehead and then the back of his hand to his cheek. “I think the fever’s gone, and looking at you, I think your spots are fading, too.”

“How’s Mo?”

“She’s still a little itchy, but she’s a trooper.”

“What time is it?” Peter asked.

“A little after four. Sun should be up in a few hours. You’ve been sleeping a while.”

Peter glanced at the window and then back to Tony. His dreams had been strange, a mixture of Spider-Man and school, and of course, Ben. He’d dreamt about his uncle, and the ache from his loss lingered in the room. Frowning, he looked down at his hands that were twisting the sheet between them.

“You okay?” Tony asked, sitting on the bed. He placed a hand over Peter’s, stopping him from tearing the sheet.

Peter shrugged. “I guess. I mean, I’m fine. It’s no big deal.”

“I thought we were past pretending. I can tell something’s bothering you. What’s wrong?”

“It’s dumb because it’s been so long. It’s stupid that I haven’t let it go.”

“What is?”

“I dreamt about him—about Ben—and it felt so real. He was taking care of me like he used to when I was little.”

Tony squeezed Peter’s hands. “I can promise you, kid, Ben has never stopped looking out for you.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Peter sniffed, tears threatening to make an appearance. “It’s stupid, though.”

“It’s not. Ben, your parents, they will always be part of you. It’s not stupid to dream, Peter.”

Peter nodded, feeling his grip on his emotion slipping. Tony seemed to sense it and nudged him to move over, sliding in next to him. Tony put an arm around him and pulled him close, so his head was on Tony’s chest. Peter could hear his heart beating, and the sound grounded him. He drifted off to sleep with Tony beside him, carding his fingers through his hair. 


End file.
